Last Call
by Fallen Ark Angel
Summary: Hunter goes from being ready to bash brains in to breaking Stephanie all over again with very little intent. But then, you always hurt the ones you pretend you absolutely loath the most. - One-shot.


"The fuck do you want?"

"I just wanna see you."

"Why?"

"You know why."

"Fuck off."

"It's not a trick."

"I said fuck off."

"You know you want to too."

Silence. Then,

"Where are you? In this fucking hotel?"

"No. I got one two towns away from everyone else. Off the highway. In room 7B."

Again, around thirty seconds of silence. Then,

"How do I get there?"

It took Hunter about half an hour to find himself at a rundown motel off the service road where the giant A in the vacancy sign was just as dim as the NO. He sat in his truck for a moment, thinking, before slowly slipping out and heading on up the outdoor stairwell that led up to the second level of rooms.

Standing outside 7B, he hit the toe of his heavy boot against the door, rather than knocking, face dark as he awaited it being opened.

Stephanie was on the other side, of course, staring at him with nothing short of lust, at first, but quickly surprise and shock when she saw what was dangling from his left hand.

"Why the hell did you bring- Hey!"

Shoving by her, he looked around the room, the lamp by the bedside the only light being given off leaving many shadows for the clearly suspect man.

"If anyone's in here, I'll bash your head in just as hard as theirs, Stephanie," he growled as he stalked over to the bathroom, kicking open the door and finding it empty.

"There's no one here. Knock it off. You're being too loud. You'll get me in trouble."

"With who? Huh?"

"Um, the management?"

After glancing under the bed, Hunter had gone over to the closet, shifting the sledgehammer he'd brought with him to both hands, barring it before his chest as he ground out, "Open the closet, Stephanie."

"Hunter-"

" _Now_."

Slowly coming over, she flung open to the closet to the tiny hotel room to reveal...nothing.

Though he was still tense, Hunter did relax a bit as, slowly, he backed away and went back to the still wide open front door. Stephanie was unsure if he was, after finding she wasn't setting a trap for him, going to just leave, having come only to decimate any who wished to do so to him. Watching, she saw him peak out the door, looking both left and right before taking a step back inside and closing the door behind him.

As he drew the chain, he asked with a glance over his shoulder, "Why did you invite me here?"

Still in a bit of shock by the quickly moving events, Stephanie only stood there for a moment, dressed in a big t-shirt that looked an awful lot like one of his old faded concert shirts from the early 90s, thread bare and rough looking. He could see the dark green panties she had beneath and tried not to stare too hard when she'd move a certain way and he'd get a better glance at them.

"Why do you think?" she finally got out as he turned around to face her, hammer not gripped as tightly, but still being held as he came closer to her. "I mean-"

"You've been drinking, haven't you?" He nodded then over to where, beneath the lamp, sat some empty and some mostly so glass bottles on the nightstand. "Steph?"

"So what if I have?"

"Do you know how stupid that is? Huh? Calling me up, in the dead of night, when you're drunk?" His gripped changed again as he lifted the hammer. "Huh?"

"H-Hunter-"

"I could do anything I wanted to you right now."

"Stop it. You're not-"

"The last time I saw you, you stupid bitch, I was slamming your pretty little head into the bottom of a ring." He was before her then and Stephanie, who seemed to want him so much before, took a step back. "What if I had shown up with some other guys, Steph? Huh? What would you have done?"

"I don't-"

"That's stupid. And dangerous. I could take my sledgehammer and press this handle into her little throat and hold you down against he bed and do whatever I want to you. And anyone I brought with me could do the same. And for all you know, I still could."

He got it then. The fear he wanted to instill.

It had a duel purpose.

On the off chance he hadn't checked everywhere and someone was still hiding, they should have come out by that point, to sneak up on him. Her brother or father or whoever the fuck she was aligning herself with in those days.

But no one came.

The second, the one that shouldn't really matter to him and yet, somehow, still did, was plain as day on her face.

Steph was drunk, fine, and people made stupid decisions when they were plastered, yes, but fuck, she could get her damn self killed doing such stupid shit. And though he'd liked to think it was only him she would do such a thing with and that there was still some trust between them, it was still stupid.

He could have hurt her. He still could hurt her. He could do a lot worse to her.

It wasn't cute. It wasn't attractive. It damn dangerous.

She might not be his wife anymore, she might not be his anything anymore, but fuck, if he ever showed up at work and found out the woman he'd heard about on the news that morning as being found in some motel room, roughed up or killed, was Stephanie, he'd…

He didn't know what he'd do.

Because he wasn't in love with her anymore. He wasn't her friend. He mostly could give a shit what happened to her.

But she had been his wife. And he had, at one time, thought possibly the mother of his child.

Someone doing such a thing to her would rip his heart out.

More than she had on her own.

He'd kept taking steps forwards and her ones backwards and then she was against the desk on the other side of the room, with nowhere else to go, and Hunter gave her his usual deadpan face as, standing there, he took a deep breath.

"But," he said as the sledgehammer slipped slowly out of his hand and landed with a deadened thud that no doubt would disturb someone else in the motel against the ground, "I'm not."

The room was silent for a moment, save the sound of the air conditioner blowing. Hunter wasn't so sure if his intensity had killed whatever vibe Steph was going for or not and, though he knew he'd done the right thing, he was a bit bummed as, somewhere, deep down, getting to fuck Steph for no good reason other than she was drunk and missing him sounded very enticing.

Steph was waiting for him, it seemed, to make the next move, either to finally leave or do something to her, whether it be good or bad, but he wouldn't. And when, tentatively, one of her hands came out to pat at his cheek, he still just stood there, head tilted slightly to lean against his palm, silent, but watch. His face was void though, unlike her still frightful one, and when he reached his own hand out, she flinched. The back of his hand only ran down her cheek a bit roughly as he spoke.

"You invite me here to play with my beard or am I getting something out of this? If not, then your rich ass is at least reimbursing me for my gas."

Stephanie's crystal eyes were on him as she whispered, "You kinda just threatened to rape me, didn't you?"

"No." His hand fell. "i told you that those are things you should think about before getting drunk and inviting men over. Especially guys like me."

"Guys like you?"

"Big hulking guys that could incapacitate you faster than you could blink. Especially ones who've already made it pretty clear that they'd love to watch you die slow."

"But you don't though."

"What makes you say that? Huh? Because I fucking hate you. Just in case you forgot."

"But you loved me. Right?" She ducked her head a bit in a way that he used to think was so cute. "You can't fully hate someone you used to love."

"You really don't watch a lotta crime shows, do you, princess?"

Instead of answering, she only asked, "Did you come here to scold me? Hunter? Or for something else?"

He considered this for a moment, taking obvious stock of her body as she only stood there, allowing this. Voice a bit gruff, he asked, "How drunk are you?"

"Why?"

"Trying to figure out how much I can talk you into doing and how much I can't. Time's valuable, after all."

"Whatever."

And she tried to shove passed him then, finally annoyed with his attitude, it seemed, but Hunter wasn't letting her get away so easily. Grabbing her arm as she went back, he gripped as tightly as he had the hammer, getting the woman to wince and glance up at him.

"Go lay down on the bed," he grumbled as he let her go. "Before you finally piss me off."

Slowly going to do so, he watched her take a long drink from one of those bottles and only grumbled some more.

"Don't you got a mint or something around here? Fucking alky."

Stephanie ignored this though, tumbling onto her back after setting the bottle back down, so that she could watch as he slowly undressed, all the way down to his boxers. Hunter stood there for a moment, at the foot of the bed, as if to take a moment to consider just what he was doing once more.

Why had he even come?

To fuck Steph, of course, if that were an option, but he had a feeling the whole way down that it just wasn't gonna be. That he was being setup and his whole point in coming was simply to bash in the skulls of those who would try to do that to him. Show them that Steph meant nothing to him, he'd come prepared, and how fucking dare they try to use her to get to him.

But here she was, without a trap, and still getting to him.

He knew enough bible stories to know there was a strong chance he wasn't leaving the room with his head full of hair if he so much as slept a wink that night.

"Wait," Stephanie whispered as he finally crawled into bed, one of her hands pressing into his chest as he leaned over her. "Do you have something?"

For a moment, he only stared down at her. Then he frowned. "Yeah, Steph. Raging syphilis under here. Beware."

"You're an ass."

"Since when do we use protection?"

"Since I'm not married to you anymore."

As he shoved out of bed to go back over to his jeans and check his wallet for a rubber, he grumbled, "You sure are articulate for a drunk."

"You said I'm drunk, not me."

"Because you are."

Maybe. Definitely feeling some affects of the alcohol and, in the morning, would lie to herself that the fault of her calling and sleeping with Hunter would be the fault of this, but honestly…

She'd been thinking about him recently.

A lot.

Especially when she was alone.

And if he took a moment to think, there was no other reason for her to be holed up in a hotel so far away from where their venue was short of her purposely planning this.

But if her mind was clouded by some alcohol, his was certainly clouded by desire and there was no getting around either. When he fell back into bed once more, Stephanie only reached over for the lamp and, for awhile, it was just the two of them and the darkness.

When it was over, Hunter laid one side of the bed and Stephanie on the other, her back to him and his against the mattress.

"Why'd you call me?" he asked after they'd laid there for awhile in the darkness. "Steph?"

Instead of answering, she only whispered back, "Why'd you come?"

"I was either gonna get to beat the shit out of someone or have sex. What guy do you know who wouldn't show up for that?"

He got silence in response and, shifting onto his side, he stared over at her back. "Your turn."

Swallowing, Stephanie still refused to glance over her shoulder at him as she said, "Same. Just wanted sex."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Bullshit."

"Bullshit you then."

"Even if I have another reason, Stephanie, I'm not the one that called the other person now am I?" He gave her a chance to speak, but when she didn't, he went on. "If you want me back, you can get fucked." Then he snickered. "By someone else, I mean."

"I don't."

"Then what did you want?"

"I just… What difference does it make to you?"

His sneer fell. "It doesn't."

"Then just go. You got what you wanted and so did I. Just leave it there."

He should have. But he couldn't. Unsure of why, he covered for himself by saying, "Maybe I like torturing you."

"Maybe you do."

"Tell me why it had to be me. Did you call other men? Before me?" Again, a no answer. "You didn't, did you? You wanted me. Huh, Stephie? You-"

"So what," she cut him off, "if I did?"

That got him to pause. Then,

"I mean, I always knew I had the stroke of a master, but-"

"It's different," she whispered. "With you."

That time when he shifted, it was to get away from her and her honest tone. "What? Steph-"

"Just go."

"What's different?"

"Hunter-"

"I don't even give a shit about you. You get that right? What difference could I possibly bring into anything to you? I fucking hate you. I hate you and your stupid family and-"

"Then go."

"Why are you so fucking stupid?"

"Just leave."

"What's so different about me, Steph? Huh?"

"Go, Hunter."

"You're such a fucking woman."

"Then leave! Why don't you just go?"

Falling onto his back once more, he let them drift back into facade of contentment, allowing it to last long enough for her eyes to shut before he asked, "Was it still different for you? This time? Or now am I just like everyone else?"

"It's not… It's a feeling."

"A feeling."

"Every time we've ever… It's stupid, just go. And you don't care. You're just going to try and use this all against me. But you can't. So just leave."

"What do you feel?"

"Hunter-"

"It's in your head, dumb ass." He sat up once more. "Whatever it is. I fucking manipulated you. I mean, we both did, to one another, but I did it so much better than you. You really thought that I loved you. I was so good at it, you'd do anything to keep me. That's how much of a hold I had on you. And now it's over, really over, and your dumb ass is just grasping at straws. It's over, Steph. I didn't really feel anything for you, at all, and any feelings you've worked yourself into believing you felt for me were all calculated. If you don't feel shit with other guys when you sleep with them now, that's probably because you never felt what you thought you did to begin with."

And, with that, finally, he shoved up and out of the bed. She didn't glance after him, but could hear him gathering his clothes, rather than slipping them back on. It was over his shoulder, as he headed into the bathroom, that he called out to her.

"Don't fall for the same stupid trick twice. Especially when I'm not even playing it on you anymore."

But she hadn't explained herself correctly. Or at least not coherently. Perhaps the cause of the alcohol or maybe because, outside of her own head, she'd never considered it but…

Feeling was the right word, but not in the same sense he was using. Or construing it. She didn't feel love or attraction or any of that. Err, well, she did, but I twas completely separate.

It was more…

They hadn't been together long. Not really. But in that short amount of time, he just came to understand her.

On a deep level.

He knew what upset her. He knew what pleased her. Moreover, he knew how to get her to either place without putting in much effort at all. Hunter saw this as a form of manipulation and he might have used it to his advantage in such a way, but it went further than that.

Steph had been with a lot of guys. Well, that made it sound bad. What she meant was she'd been with her fair share. More than, probably. She'd fallen in love and out of it a lot. Nearly every boyfriend she'd had since she was sixteen she'd envisioned as marrying and having that picturesque life that most young women dream of, but very few have the means to achieve.

But she did.

So her dreams felt much more real.

Losing Hunter hurt. A lot. And even though their relationship had gone further than any other, on paper, had it been any other guy, it wouldn't have stung so badly. She'd have cried and thrown a fit and, yeah, she'd have probably pulled the same shenanigans she had with him, but once it was over and things were finalized, she'd have just found another guy and moved on.

She was very good at that.

And she'd tried, in the near year it had been since she and Hunter had signed the papers and done away with one another. Honest, she had. But..there was just always something missing. She'd seriously dated, since their separation, one guy that was really great. He was funny, he understood her work schedule, he wasn't intimidated by her father or their business, and most importantly, he didn't mind listening to her talk.

That was a big deal that wasn't so serious in the one she'd had with Hunter. They were constantly together, but any other guy she'd be with, who wasn't associated with the business, she'd have to call and talk to most of the time.

Hunter would probably have told her it was a distance thing, if she'd been able to get this far in her explanation, but that wasn't right either.

It was something different. When she was around other guys, any other guy, she didn't feel that same...tug. That same need.

Hunter might have been manipulating her and she him, but there was some sort of undercurrent that helped it along.

She always felt it most when they were in bed together.

The last few times she'd spent lying beside Hunter, before the fake pregnancy where his hatred was being canceled out by his desire to be a father, when she knew it was ending and was racking her brain for ways to stop it from being so, beneath the obvious animosity that was steadily growing, it was still there.

It.

Whatever it was.

She was nearly certainly he could destroy everything in her life that meant anything at all to her and it would still be there.

Hell, he had.

He'd ruined her life.

Their divorce had ruined everything.

But it was still there. It had never dissipated.

She thought if they could just...sleep together again and she'd realize, in the most intimate of moments, that the feeling meant nothing and her repulsion of him won out, everything might just go back to normal, but…

It only grew.

As she laid there, miserable and alone, as he showered, it was ever present. She didn't know what he felt or what she'd feel in the morning or in the days that followed, but in that moment, if he came back out and asked her to move in with him and fuck what anyone else thought or the company that slowly led to their divorce, she'd go with him. Anywhere. Even if he only offered her another week, she'd take it.

It wasn't anything that Hunter had done to her. It was something that had taken over her the first time, after their marriage of convenience, that they truly went out somewhere. Not to discuss business or what their next plan of attack was, but because it was after work and they were both hungry and she thought he did so well in his match and he thought she looked great in what she was wearing. When he took her somewhere nice even though they were supposed to just go get a burger or something and kept giving her these smiles during and after and these butterflies just hit her stomach that never went away.

Not once.

Another two weeks would pass before they slept together. But it was then, that night, as he dropped her at her hotel room, that she knew that it wasn't going to work out. A real marriage made to bother her father, but treated as fake when they were away from him. She wouldn't be able to do it. See him with other women. Even know that he was with other women.

:He'd married her and she was going to make sure he truly did belong to her.

During their fights and especially during their divorce, she tried to bury this still very present feeling, but it never left. It wouldn't. She had a sinking feeling that it might never. She might always want him and just have to cope around that.

How many more times would she stupidly call him and let him just come in, sleep with her, and leave?

And was it him using her; or was it her using him?

His shower took so long that she'd long fell asleep by the time he got out of it. Full dressed, he only went over to where he'd kicked off his boots to, once more, slip them off, doing so silently so he could just get out of there and forget about the night.

Something stopped him though, as he was going to retrieve his sledgehammer. Leaving it instead on the ground, for some reason he went over to her bedside and moved to gather up the bottles of liqour and take them to the bathroom, where, one by one, he emptied them into the sink without a second thought.

There.

Now he could leave.

But…

When he lifted his hammer, something still felt off.

And the closer he got to the door didn't make it go away.

Steph almost screamed when she felt his presence above her about a minute later when, instead of exiting the door, Hunter turned and walked back over to her bedside, where he was standing then, hammer held out.

Her fight or flight kicked in and, for some reason, canceled one another out, leaving her there motionless and with her eyes squeezed shut, a silent scream in her throat.

But then...nothing. And, when she peaked open and eye, he was just standing there in the dark, staring down at her.

"Don't," he said as, with his free hand, he moved to pick up the arm she had laid over the bed, "drink so much anymore, Steph. Or at all. And don't just sleep around with guys you don't know well. Or know well enough to know that they could seriously hurt you. That's stupid. You're a damn bitch, but you're not stupid."

Beneath where her arm had been, he laid his sledgehammer, gently dropping her arm then over it. As she lay there, dazed, he only shrugged a bit.

"But when you do, because I know you will, keep this around, yeah?" Hunter's grin looked odd in the darkness that enveloped them. Almost haunting. "You're pretty good with it. Aim for the groin."

"H-Hun-"

"Hush. I can manage to lose one. I got others."

And then he leaned down, making Steph believe even more that she was dreaming. Hell, if it wasn't for the racing of her heart, she'd be nearly certain she was dead and this was just her ultimate fantasy playing out for her before she was cast away to Hades.

His lips pressed against her head in a way that they hadn't in so long and Steph closed both her eyes again, just laying there, not believing for a second any of this was real. And when what felt like little splashes of water hit a bit above his lips, she convinced herself that it was certainly just some leftover droplets in his hair from his shower.

Yes.

Of course.

"You gotta move on, Steph," he whispered when, after righting himself, he took a big step back. "Alright? Life's shit. And we're not meant to be. There is no feeling. There's no nothing. I know the hates gone again, so now you think you care about me, but you don't. I don't care about you either. It's over. It's done. You can convince yourself of anything if you try hard enough, but this isn't real. We were never real. And you can't will to be."

He turned then and, eyes opening again, she watched his back as water that certainly wasn't from a shower crowded her eyes, blurring her vision of his darkened shadow.

Pausing at the door, he didn't glance behind him, but did say, "Remember, baby, aim for the crotch, right?"

And then he was gone and she was alone and it was okay to cry again.

But it wasn't for him. Down in his truck, he didn't leave immediately. He just sat there, the ignition started, but the radio off and his hands on the steering wheel, staring back up at that motel room.

If Steph couldn't put it into words, then he wouldn't even allow himself to think, but…

Somewhere inside, he knew what she said was true.

There was a feeling.

A longing.

A numbness.

A need.

And seeing her that night, being with her one last time, getting a true one last time, had done fuck all to vanquish it.

* * *

 **I think I'm starting to prefer Hunter and Steph to Paul and Steph. It's like a rougher, meaner, shadow version of what actually happened. It wasn't until I was trying to think of a title for this one that I realized it's just like Phone Calls and Alcohol, but with a different ending (or at least a stopping point, I guess; their lives end up the same regardless). What about you guys, I ask, knowing hardly anyone reads this shit and hardly anyone bothers to review anymore.**

 **Regardless, I wanna hurry up and finish In Sickness so that we can move onto other things, so hopefully expect that soon.**


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